


Empty Chairs

by Owl_song



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Post Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 11:06:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owl_song/pseuds/Owl_song
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based on 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables' from LesMis. The battle was won but so many had not returned, and Queen Gwenevere was haunted by the memories of the men she once knew. And more than anything, the memory of Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to that beautiful song from Les Misérables, 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables' and this sort of appeared in my mind and begged to be written. Please let me know what you think :)
> 
> I can only post 1000 characters at a time because i'm on my mobile internet, anymore than that in the work text and it won't load. Sorry for the inconvenience, please read each chapter as a direct continuence of the last. I'll join them all together next time I go on the computer.

The battle was won, but so many had not returned. Brave men, noble in heart and loyal to Camelot had given their lives, blood spilt and soaked up by the parched ground as though in payment for the freedom their sacrifice had bought.

The red banners of Camelot, which had risen in a promise of strength and hope now symbolised something else entirely.

And Queen Gwenevere felt every loss. But nothing compared to the pain she felt the day Merlin returned - alone. King Arthur was dead.

Long live the Queen.

She wished they'd stop chanting. It reminded Gwen so much of another time, barely years ago when they had cheered for Him, for Arthur, celebrating their new king with shouts of joy and trumpets and singing and she had felt so happy. Now she stood where he had once set his feet, before his kindom - which would always be his kindom, because she could never think of it as hers.

It was a things like this that triggered her grief. The smaller things that weren't supposed to make you hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

Like the scuff marks worn into the marble floor of the antechamber to the thrown room, where Arthur had often paced in stress before giving a speach - murmuring lines of inspiring address under his breath as though afraid they would slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Despite the fact he'd never gotten it wrong.

Or the piece of parchment with Arthur's writing on it, which lay forgotten on his desk. The familiar slant where he'd written quickly, and the flicks of the 'y's curling round beneith the word and invading the next line - letters that had been formed by a now dead hand, but looked no different now to when the ink was still wet. Gwen could almost see his wrist leaning against the page, and his tanned fingers clutching the quill. There was a spot of ink were the nib had dribbed, probably because she had distracted him, and it was that which set her off, the sobs rising in her chest as she saw, so clearly in her minds eye, moments that would never again come to pass. Moments in this very room.


	3. Chapter 3

There had been a grand memorial, held in the courtyard, which every able bodied citizen of camelot had attended. Gwen had stayed strong, feeling oddly emotionally detached as the remaining of the king's closest knights carried the great (though empty) coffin out of the city gates. It was open, overflowing with flowers of red and white which fell to join the blossoms that the citizens of camelot had laid upon the road.

Even the much smaller, simpler memorial held by the lake at which Arthur had been laid to rest produced only gentle tears. They ran silently down her cheeks, and Merlin had held her hand, staring into the horizen with empty eyes blue eyes but somehow sensing her distress.

It was when Gwen returned to her chambers that evening and climbed into the empty bed that the storm hit. The memory of Arthur laying next to her was so vivid, she would close her eyes only to open them half expecting to see him there, eagle spread on his front with the cover wrapped around his torso and one arm reaching out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part :)

The next morning, Gwen had risen early, but entered the morning's council to find the other members of the round table already assembled.

At first, it was the table that struck her - the round table Arthur had insisted on having for these meetings, despite the difficuly getting it into the room, and the exasperation of the royal 'advisers' (old lords who had no place at the table, so no right to an opinion, he had complained to her one evening) because of what it represented. Freedom of speach. Equality. Where servant and noble and blacksmith's daughter had sat together, that very first time, united against morgana and an entire immortal army. And somehow, they had won.

That 'somehow' had turned out to be Merlin, who now took his place by Arthur's empty seat as a free sorcerer.

Suddenly, it was the chairs that caught her attention. So many were empty. Gwen could picture them there easily, the men they had lost. Each a good and valued friend. But never again would they sit in fellowship at this table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End. Please drop a quick review?


End file.
